Too Many Hippies In The Garden Of Love
by Random42
Summary: Let's pretend seasons 6 & 7 never happened. (I do.) So Buffy's still dead. For now. But when things start going just a little too well our heroes will have to team up with the unlikeliest of allies to sort out what's going on. PART VI ADDED
1. I Eat Breakfast Like You For Breakfast

Disclaimer: "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" and all its characters are property of Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy and the UPN Network.  "The Monkey Zoo" written by Ginger, published by Copyright Control.

Summary: Things have been going just a little too well lately so there must be something wrong.

Spoilers: Up to and including "The Gift".

Distribution: If you want it, here it is, come and get it.  But you better hurry 'cause it's going fast.  Oh yeah, and let me know.

Feedback: Yes, please.

Author's Note: Here's to Robert Rankin for writing some of the weirdest and funniest books I've ever read.  The title of the story is taken from a Silver Ginger 5 song.

***

PART I

I EAT BREAKFAST LIKE YOU FOR… WELL, BREAKFAST

***

_Sex_

_It sort of fills the gap_

_That opens right back up_

_It's never quite enough_

_Let's try mix in some love_

_That sort of makes it work_

_It's sort of making sense_

_But you're not making sense_

_I guess we got it wrong_

_Somehow_

_Hello_

_That déjà vu is back_

_Again_

_In this is where I say, "I love you"_

            -- "The Monkey Zoo", Silver Ginger 5

***

Xander opened his eyes as the opening bars of his favorite Silver Ginger 5 song filled his room.  He rolled over and groggily peered in the direction of the clock radio that sat on his nightstand.  Since the heavy drapes of his bedroom were closed only very little daylight filtered in.  In the relative darkness he recognized the glowing numbers on the front of the clock trying to tell him the time, but he only saw them as two luminous red blobs.

Since that, of course, wouldn't do, Xander rummaged around under the covers for his hands, found them and brought them out to give his eyes a good rubbing.  He was surprised and also a little hurt by the fact that his right hand hadn't been trapped under Anya's body, depriving it mercilessly of blood, like it usually is.  He noted that Anya was still very much blissfully asleep next to him, even though the clock radio was blaring.  She also seemed to have been cured of her snore.

_Huh!_ he thought, as his brain was still too foggy to formulate words.

Xander slowly emerged from under the covers and gave every muscle found wanting one a good stretch.  He tried to yawn but found that he felt very rested and that he looked forward to facing a new day instead of his usual longing to curl up next to his girlfriend (_Whoops, excuse me, fiancée! Xander mentally scolded himself) and sleep the day away._

He turned the clock radio off.  Six thirty, it cheerfully proclaimed to anyone inclined to listen.

_Five and a half hours of sleep_, Xander mused.  _I wonder where all this positive energy comes from.  I never used to be a morning person._

He shrugged, and wandered off in the general direction of his bathroom, feeling unexpectedly excited by the prospect of showering, shaving and all the other things usually done in a bathroom in the morning that will go unnamed.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom again he found the bed empty and a delicious smell in the air.  He quickly pulled on his work pants and T-shirt and proceeded into the kitchen where he was greeted by quite the glorious sight.

The table was filled with pretty much every breakfast food imaginable to man.  Bacon, sausages, hash browns, five varieties of toast, seven kinds of eggs and mountainous plates of pancakes and waffles fought for his attention.  In a small, far off corner the table was set for one.

Next to this culinary carnival stood Anya, spatula in hand.  Xander's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he noticed that she had discarded her usual sleeping attire (one of Xander's shirts several sized to big for her and sweat pants) for one of those black lacey numbers and a pair of black high heels, the kind of ensemble that he only ever saw in the catalogues that he nicked out of her mail.

"Good morning, honey!" she chirped excitedly, then threw herself at him and kissed him passionately.  "I made you breakfast," she added after a kiss so long that Xander wondered whether he had turned blue from oxygen deprivation.

"So I noticed," was all Xander could manage.

"Sit down!  Eat!" Anya commanded, leading him over to the solitary chair and pushing him into it.  "Do you want coffee, tea, orange juice or a Bloody Mary?"

_How could she conjure up all this food in just the short time I was in the bathroom?_ Xander wondered.  _And did she just ask me if I wanted a Bloody Mary for breakfast?  She knows I like Margaritas better!_

"Anya, have you been meddling with culinary dark forces powerful beyond our imagination, or have you taken up smoking crack?  Where did all this food come from?" he finally asked while his girlfriend had taken to piling all kinds of food onto his plate.

Anya gave a hearty laugh and then added, "I cooked this, silly!"  She was the very definition of perky.  "Come on now, eat," she coaxed.

And dig in Xander did.  He shoveled great amounts of food into his mouth until his cheeks threatened to burst.  Meanwhile Anya stood next to him and looked on contentedly as her boyfriend stuffed his face.

"Arrenff you gonna eaf annyfink?" Xander asked spraying bits of his half-chewed breakfast all over the table.

"Oh, no, I'm not hungry in the morning," Anya answered, shaking her head.

For a moment Xander pondered why he was so focused on the food and not on the fact that his girlfriend was standing next to him in a state of near total undress.  He decided to put it down to the fact that he knew he didn't have the time to give Anya the attention she deserved and the food served as the necessary distraction.  He would thank her properly later that night.

Try as he might though he could not even make a dent in the amount of food that Anya had prepared.  And considering how much he had eaten so far he should have been feeling much more full.  But he just felt pleasantly satisfied and there still was an Everest of food in front of him when he had to leave for work.  Anya seemed not at all upset by the fact that the vast majority of the food she had prepared had gone untouched.

"Have a good day," she whispered as they kissed good-bye.

"Thanks for all the food," Xander answered.  "Look, let me try and at least get a start on showing my appreciation for this before tonight.  Do you want to meet me at Fangio's for lunch?"

"But of course," she beamed.  "And you don't have to make it up to me.  You are very welcome."

"I'll see you at lunch then."

And with this he set off down the stairs towards his car and a new day on the job.  He was really looking forward to getting a good day's work done.  As he stepped out of his building he was surprised by how warm it was outside, considering it was still only March.  The sun was shining down warmly from a pristine blue sky.

This was going to be a good day indeed.

***

On one of the hills overlooking Sunnydale, Bill stood under the same sky with the same sun beaming down pleasantly.  But they were having a much different effect on him than they were having on Xander.  For Bill was not happy.  Bill was not happy at all.  Actually Bill could have been described as unhappy, he was so not happy.  Oh yes, indeed.

"This is not good," said Bill.

***


	2. Breaking Up Is Not So Hard To Do

Disclaimer: "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" and all its characters are property of Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy and the UPN Network.

Summary: Things have been going just a little too well lately so there must be something wrong.

Spoilers: Up to and including "The Gift".

Distribution: If you want it, here it is, come and get it.  But you better hurry 'cause it's going fast.  Oh yeah, and let me know.

Feedback: Yes, please.

***

PART II

BREAKING UP IS NOT QUITE SO HARD TO DO

***

"This is _so good," said Xander around a mouthful of his sandwich._

Xander and Anya were sitting at Fangio's enjoying their lunch.  It had been so pleasantly warm all day that they had decided to sit outside in the sun.

Xander had arrived a little early, since his boss had suddenly become very liberal in his enforcement of lunch breaks.

"Have a good time, my boy," had been his exact words.  "And if you don't make it back, don't worry about it.  Tomorrow's another day."  Xander had found it very hard to argue with this kind of logic.

And so Xander had made the short trek over to Fangio's, sat down at a table and waited for Anya.  When Anya finally arrived Xander had felt like a second sun had suddenly risen.  Not the bad kind that dries out lands, sends out noxious UV radiation and gives you sunburn, but the kind that warms you up on a chilly day, makes plants grow and creates those amazing sunsets when you sit on the beach.  The kind of sun that makes you think that maybe, just maybe, there's more to this planet than vampires and hellgods.

When Anya had appeared nothing else mattered, there was just him and her.  And the food.  Can't forget the food.  Wouldn't be much of a lunch without it, now would it?  He loved her very much.  And the food too.  It was going to be a very good lunch.

And so Xander sat there basking in the glow of his girlfriend and savoring every bite of his sandwich (fried chicken with mozzarella and garlic spread and a plate of curly fries, Xander's favorite), until she finally piped up.

"I think we should break up," she chirped.

For a moment the bite that Xander had been so contentedly chewing got caught in his throat and he regretted never asking Anya if she knew how to perform the Heimlich maneuver.  Luckily the food quickly dislodged itself and Xander swallowed hard.

After a short coughing fit and much clearing of the throat Xander attempted to answer only to find he had temporarily misplaced his voice.  So he tried to communicate with his hands while he went looking his elusive vocal chords.

"There is no need for obscene gestures," Anya said, a little taken aback.  They weren't actually obscene gestures; it was just that Anya still hadn't quite figured out which gestures meant what.  To this day she considered a game of charades as a kind of foreplay.

"We what?" Xander asked aghast, having used the time to hunt down his voice, corner it and drag it back screaming and kicking.  Well, mostly screaming.

"Break up," Anya reiterated.  "I think we should."

"Just like that?" Xander inquired.  "No warnings?  No ultimatums?  You just cooked me a breakfast so big it would put any all-you-can-eat establishment to shame!"

"You looked thin," she shrugged.  "I thought you needed some energy."

"Energy?" Xander sputtered, still not quite believing he was having this conversation.  "What, so you wouldn't have to worry when you dropped this anvil on me?"  Suddenly a thought struck him.  "Is this about getting married?  Because if you don't want to get married, that's okay.  All you need to do is say so."

"No, this is not about marriage," Anya explained.  "I just don't love you anymore."

"You don't love me anymore?" Xander repeated and briefly considered a career as a professional echo.  He'd be good at it.  "You just said you loved me this morning!"

"That was this morning.  I've changed since then.  But you haven't."

"Let me make sure I'm understanding you: You are breaking up with me because I haven't changed since this morning but you have," Xander stated carefully.

"Exactly!" Anya nodded.  "I'm a very different person now.  I'm not the same girl that you fell in love with.  I've grown since then."  And just for good measure she added, "It's not you, it's me."

Xander waited for a moment to make sure that Anya had exhausted her movie breakup clichés.

"Is it because I didn't finish your food?"

"Will you stop with the food already?" Anya shot back.  "It has nothing to do with breakfast.  Or any other meal for that matter."  She gave Xander a second to digest this, and allow me a chance to make a terrible pun.  "Besides I think you should be with Buffy anyway."

"Excuse me, but has it slipped your mind that Buffy is dead?" Xander asked.  "Has been for nearly a year now.  Remember we went to the funeral?  Hole in the ground, lots of people wearing black, all the crying, more than the occasional mention of ashes and dust?  All that ring any bells?"

"I know she's dead," Anya said, her mood being surprisingly patient and perky, as if she was just humoring her soon to be ex-boyfriend.  "But hey, maybe she'll get better," she added in her best Monty Python accent.

"Okay, so now you're breaking up with me on the off chance that Buffy, _dead Buffy, who just for the record was not even attracted to me when she was alive, will suddenly get better!" Xander retorted.  "Forgive me if I don't draw much comfort from this."_

"Ah, don't be so grumpy."

"And why, pray tell, shouldn't I be?" Xander inquired.

"Well, do you love me?" Anya asked.

"No, but that's not the point."

Anya knew there was no reason to reply to that.  She just arched her eyebrows and let Xander mull things over for a moment.

"Okay," Xander finally conceded, "Maybe that's _part_ of the point.  But you can't just break up with me like this."

"Why not?" Anya asked.

"Because _I wanted to break up with __you," Xander whined.  "I had it all worked out in my head."_

"Really?" Anya said excitedly.  "What were you going to say?"

"Pretty much the same things you said.  Movie clichés and all."  Xander hung his head in defeat.

There was a short silence between them in which they both just looked at their half eaten lunches before them.  Nothing terribly exciting happened in those moments.

Finally Xander looked up again.  "Well, that went rather well, don't you think?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, marvelous," Anya agreed.

"Didn't you think I was a little heavy on the drama?" Xander worried.

"No, no, it was very good," Anya assured him.  "Very believable"

"Really?" he said cheering up visibly.  "Thanks!"  There was another short pause.  "So I guess I'll see you around then?" Xander ventured.

"Yeah, I'll see you around," Anya answered.

They stood up, shook hands and Anya took her leave.

Xander re-parked his bum, sat there for a moment wondering if he was just in denial and grief was going to hit him full force any second now.  But nothing happened and Xander found that he felt quite pleased and happy.  Also very hungry and now he even had Anya's leftovers for himself.

***

Lucy was standing on the other side of the street from Xander and surveying him through a pair of binoculars.  Next to her stood Bill, whose mood had not at all brightened since that morning.

"This is all very wrong," said Bill.

"Yeah, and somebody needs to teach that boy some table manners," added Lucy.

***


	3. Sittin' On The Top Of The Grave

Disclaimer: "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" and all its characters are property of Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy and the UPN Network.  "The Monkey Zoo" written by Ginger, published by Copyright Control.

Summary: Things have been going just a little too well lately so there must be something wrong.

Spoilers: Up to and including "The Gift".

Distribution: If you want it, here it is, come and get it.  But you better hurry 'cause it's going fast.  Oh yeah, and let me know.

Feedback: Yes, please.

Author's Note: The name "Boffy" belongs to whomever came up with it.  I believe it was somebody over at TelevisionWithtoutPity.com.

***

PART III

SITTIN' ON THE TOP OF THE GRAVE

***

_Death_

_Though going on worldwide_

_Still takes you by surprise_

_Okay, you had to go_

_But I bet you didn't know_

_That you'd take_

_A piece of me away with you_

_Now it's too_

_Damned late to say "I love you"_

_Monkey see, see, see_

_Monkey do, do, do_

_It's so hard, it's so very hard_

_It's a mystery how we keep on seeing it through_

_We just do, we just do_

_Here at the Monkey Zoo_

            -- "The Monkey Zoo", Silver Ginger 5

***

"Don't look at me like that," Xander admonished.  "I'm not drunk!"

This, however, was not completely true.  He had done quite a bit of drinking, and was therefore in an advanced state of inebriation.  "FUBAR" would be the scientific term favored by college students.

Earlier that day when Xander had returned to his job, he had casually mentioned to his boss that he had just broken up with his girlfriend.  Xander was just about to return to his work when he noticed that his boss was very visibly struggling to fight back tears.  Also somebody must have overheard Xander, because within moments the news had spread all around the building site, once again proving that the only thing to travel faster than light is gossip.  Before Xander really had time to react the whole place was awash in tears, with all of Xander's colleagues crying, howling, blubbering and weeping openly.  Some may even have been bawling.  Except for Xander, who just stood there dumbstruck, watching this rather bizarre spectacle.

After everyone had managed to calm down to a reasonable degree, Xander's boss had yelled, "Everybody put down whatever it is you're doing.  We're going to help poor Xander through these very difficult times.  Tonight the drinks are on us!"

And so they had laid down their work, gone from bar to bar and saturated themselves in mass quantities of alcohol.  Xander had actually tried to explain that he was fine, and that he wouldn't mind going back to work, but his colleagues would have none of it.  And besides, Xander had never been one to turn down free alcohol.

Xander had been very pleasantly surprised that he had not been carded all night, because he had left his fake ID at home.  Also the bars had stayed open late that night, and it was three o'clock in the morning when he finally started the long stumble home.

On his way however he had gotten sidetracked into the graveyard, and that's how he had ended up sitting on Buffy's gravestone and justifying himself to her.

"Really," he repeated.  "Not drunk at all."

"Yes, you are," Buffy's voice replied, startling Xander so much that he lost his balance and tumbled to the ground.

He unsteadily scrambled back to his feet, wheeled around on the source of the voice, over spun and ended up facing his original direction.  He turned again, this time slowly enough to keep track of his feet, and faced the figure before him.

The figure did bear a striking resemblance to the late Buffy, except for the "R" that had been stuck to her forehead.  It was Boffy, the robot double of the girl whose body was merrily decomposing approximately six feet below Xander.  Willow had done a quite remarkable job of putting the robot back together, she had turned the glorified sex toy into a bona fide RoboSlayer.  The name, however, had stuck.

Nonetheless Boffy now patrolled the streets of Sunnydale every night slaying the undead, and she had kept everyone fairly safe for the past year.  There had been a short-lived dream of producing these robots in series and selling them to the Watcher's Council for a hefty fee.  But there was only so much two witches, a carpenter, a wanna-be poet vampire, a fifteen-year-old and a man whose whole knowledge revolved around ancient mystical texts knew about advanced robotics.

The idea for the "R" on the forehead had come while watching _Red Dwarf one night, but there were still occasional fights about whether it stood for "Robot" or "Rimmer".  Although the whole thing was academic anyway, since there was no real Buffy to mistake the robot for._

"Boffy!" Xander gasped, once he had remembered to resume breathing.  "You scared the crap out of me."

Boffy's eyes narrowed for a moment.  "According to my scans the crap you are referring to is still very much inside you," she stated, her wide grin in place.

"Yes," Xander answered, turning a very bright shade of red.  "Thank you so much for checking."

"So, what are you doing here?" Boffy inquired.  "You know you shouldn't be here at night.  You could get killed.  Or worse."

"Why, are there many vampires around?" Xander asked, trying not to sound too alarmed and failing miserably.

"Not one," Boffy shrugged.  "It's very boring.  I would have sex with you but I don't remember how to do that.  Willow erased the subroutines.  But I'm programmed not to find you attractive anyway."

"No woman seems to be these days," Xander answered.  "And ewww," he added.

Boffy walked over and stood before Xander.  She was a notorious close-talker, probably a leftover of her original programming.  "So how was your day?" she asked cheerfully, accessing the somewhat limited folder in her memory labeled "Small Talk".

"Oh, excellent," Xander responded without enthusiasm.  "I went to work and then Anya broke up with me.  So I went drinking with my colleagues."

"That's nice," Boffy grinned.  She searched for another appropriate question to ask.  "And why is your girlfriend not here?"

Xander gave her a confused look for a moment.  "Didn't I just tell you that we broke up?"

"Really?" asked Boffy, still grinning.  "That's too bad."  Before she forgot she erased the 'Anya's boyfriend' cross-reference in Xander's profile.  However she forgot to do the same in Anya's profile. "So who is your girlfriend now?" she inquired hoping to fill the blank in Xander's vitals.

"Nobody, I guess," he answered.

"Ah, that's nice," chirped Boffy and created a new profile, labeled it "Nobody" and added 'Xander's girlfriend'.  "So what is she like?"

"What is who like?" Xander asked.

"Nobody."

"Why did you ask me then?"

"Because I don't know Nobody."

"That's not true.  You know people."

"I do?" wondered Boffy, and created a new profile labeled "People" with an entry saying 'I know him'.  Then she erased 'him' and replaced it with 'her'.  This left her with an unknown for which she needed clarification.  "Is People a boy or a girl?"

"What?"  Xander stared at the robot in utter confusion.  "People are people," he added, even though he never had been much of a Depeche Mode fan.  He hoped his answer would be helpful, but doubted it.

Upon hearing this Boffy erased here original entry in People's profile and replaced it with 'See People'.  Then she tried to process this input, which promptly caused her operating system to crash.

Xander looked on in horror as Boffy's eyes rolled back in her skull, her body went stiff as a board and she keeled over on the spot.

"Oh, dear," Xander mumbled as he got down on all fours next to the robot.  Willow had told him that in such cases he had to press the reset button, but had then failed to mention where said button was located.  _I guess I'll just have to look for it, Xander thought.  And so he started by feeling around Boffy's skull.  He assumed the button wouldn't be on her face, so he concentrated on her scalp and ears but came up empty.  He sighed and started unbuttoning Boffy's shirt.  He couldn't help but notice that her upper body was anatomically correct.  Xander hoped that nobody would pass by and see him, because this scene would look very strange indeed._

When his search of Boffy's front came up empty he decided to try the back, because taking off the robot's pants was something he was not ready to do quite yet.  He tried rolling the robot over but found that it was quite a bit heavier than a human being.  Xander cursed under his breath and stomped off in search of some tools.  He soon returned with a long stick and, using Buffy's gravestone for leverage, he got back to work.  After several failed attempts and a quite impressive string of profanity Xander was able to flip the body over.

To his great relief he found the reset switch in the small of Boffy's back.  After taking a few moments to boot up Boffy's eyes flicked open and she got up off the ground.

"Hi, Xander," she said cheerfully.  "How are you?"  She looked down and noticed her open shirt.  "Hey, my shirt is open," she announced.  "And you're all sweaty and breathing heavily.  Did we have sex?"

"No, Boffy, we did not have sex," Xander explained, wondering how long his patience would last.

"Oh, that's nice," the robot responded.  "Because Willow programmed me not to be attracted to you."

"So you said earlier," Xander mumbled unenthusiastically.  "I'll have to thank her for that when I see her."

"She did program me to be attracted to her though," Boffy added helpfully.

"She what?" Xander asked aghast.  Then he quickly shook his head.  "You know what?  I don't even wanna know."

"My operating system did not shut down properly last time," Boffy announced.  "Please, use the proper shutdown procedure in the future.  Thank you for using the ZX Spectrum."

"I think your system crashed," Xander said.  "There was this really unfunny scene with lots of misunderstandings.  It made me wish my system could crash too."

Boffy ran a quick diagnostic on her operating system.  Luckily the "People" profile had not been saved and so no errors appeared.  When she was done she reverted back to the "Small Talk" folder.  "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Nothing."  Xander shrugged.  "I just thought I'd come by and visit Buffy."

"Buffy is not here," Boffy said helpfully.

"I know, but this is her grave after all," Xander tried to explain.  He didn't really expect the robot to understand.

"It is her grave.  But Buffy has left," Boffy explained.

"Is this another one of these conversations with lots of misunderstandings?" Xander asked, losing his patience.  "Buffy is buried here."

"That's what I have been trying to tell you.  She is not buried here.  Buffy dug herself out and left."

"She what?" Xander was back to his incredulous self.  "You're kidding!"  He felt as if all the effects of the alcohol he had imbibed earlier evaporated off him.  He wished they hadn't, considering the way things were turning out.

"No, I saw her do it.  About two hours ago.  I was standing right over there."  Boffy pointed into a random direction.  "By the time I got here she had already gone."

"Gone?" Xander repeated.  "Wait!  If she dug herself out why is there not a big hole here?"

"I closed it," Boffy said proudly.  "I thought it rather spoiled the landscape."

"Did you tell anybody?" Xander inquired.

"I told you."

Xander groaned.  "So instead of trying to follow her you stayed here and closed up the hole through which Buffy had dug herself up?"

"Yep," Boffy said with a smile.

"And you have no idea where she went?"

"Nope."

Xander groaned again.  This time longer and deeper.  "I guess we better go tell Giles," he concluded.

"Okay!" Boffy exclaimed cheerfully.  And as they walked in the direction of the watcher's home she added, "I like Giles.  But I don't want to have sex with him."

"Shut up, Boffy."

***

"So we're not in this part then?" asked Bill.  And yes he was still in a bad mood.  He was in an every-silver-lining-has-a-cloud kind of mood.

"Nope," replied Lucy, who was happy to have some time off.

"This is not good," said Bill gravely, which was quickly becoming somewhat of a catch phrase.  "And now I even have to talk to my agent.  Greedy bastard."

***

Xander was quite surprised to find that Giles had not been in bed at four o'clock in the morning.  The watcher promptly opened the door to let him and the robot in.  And then Giles was buried under a tsunami of words that spilled out of Xander.

"OhmyGodGilesBoffysaidthatshesawBuffydigherselfoutofhergraveabouttwohoursagoandinsteadoffollowinghershestayedthereandclosedup

theholeagainandnowshetoldmeandnowI'mtellingyouandwhoknowswhereBuffyisrightnowandwhoknowswhatBuffyisrightnowshecouldbezombie

oravampirenoit'stoolateforhertobeavampirebutazombieoradeaditelikeinEvilDeadandwehavetodosomethingmaybeshe'sokaymaybeshe'slost

maybeshe…"  And then he finally ran out of air and doubled over panting heavily.

When Xander straightened back up he scrunched up his nose in response to the rancid smell that was permeating Giles' apartment.

"Giles, no offense, man," he began, having reacquired the use of punctuation.  "But you gotta air this place out, I mean, it smells _really_ bad in here.  It reeks like something died and you…-"

"Xander?" a voice interrupted him.  Xander wheeled around on Boffy to tell her to shut up when he noticed a second figure standing next to the robot.  That figure bore a striking resemblance to the robot, except for its somewhat odd-looking color.

"Hi, me!" Boffy chirped.  "I'm pretty.  You're green."

***


	4. Noisy Pink Bubbles

Disclaimer: "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" and all its characters are property of Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy and the UPN Network.

Summary: Things have been going just a little too well lately so there must be something wrong.

Spoilers: Up to and including "The Gift".

Distribution: If you want it, here it is, come and get it.  But you better hurry 'cause it's going fast.  Oh yeah, and let me know.

Feedback: Yes, please.

Author's Note: The name "Boffy" belongs to whomever came up with it.  I believe it was somebody over at MightyBigTV.com.  And the chapter title is a song by Devin Townsend.

***

PART IV

NOISY PINK BUBBLES

***

"Buffy?" asked Xander, his voice quivering at the sight of the figure in front of him.

Said figure did indeed have the features of the Slayer, but it also was a very unhealthy shade of green, a shade akin to rotting Cabbage.  Xander didn't have a lot of experience with people coming back from the grave (well, at least not kind that were still human afterwards), but he was quite sure that, considering the advanced state of decay that Buffy was in, she should not actually be standing in front of him.  He was also willing to bet that this version of her was of inferior physical quality.

This version of Buffy was positively grotesque.  Besides having turned the wrong color, her skin had dried up almost completely and was flaking badly in quite a few places.  The body seemed to have forgotten that it had to produce new skin underneath to take over for the old one that was detaching itself.  Luckily the clothes Buffy had been buried in had withstood the wear and tear of being underground for nearly a year (well, at least the wearing part, since lying very still involves little tearing) and the subsequent digging out process almost intact, so the assembled onlookers were spared a look at some of Buffy's internal organs.

But Buffy's face was enough of a grizzly sight to more than make up for it.  It was haggard, barely more than a skull covered (incompletely) in skin.  Her eyes had sunk deep into their sockets and were completely whited out.  On top of her head sat an unruly mop of frizzy gray hair.

In a very bad way Buffy reminded Xander of the movie Evil Dead.  The acrid stench that the former corpse emitted engulfed him completely and offended each and every olfactory nerve that Xander possessed.

Buffy could tell that her friends were trying to keep an "Oh no, I'm not disgusted by you"-look on their faces, but she could also see that Xander was starting to turn blue as he tried not to breathe.

"I won't hug you, Xander," she mumbled.  "Even though I'd really like to."  Her left ear fell off.  (Oh, did I mention that bits of Buffy were falling off her?)

Xander tried his hardest to hide his relief, but did a terrible job of it.  "I don't mind.  Really!" he muttered unconvincingly.

"No," answered Buffy resolutely, shaking her head sending bits of skin and hair flying off on multiple trajectories.  "I learned from what happened with Giles."

"Why?" Xander inquired.  "What happened with Giles?"

The Slayer silently stared at the floor in front of her feet, hoping it would open up and swallow her.  Again, I guess.  "He…" she stammered, when it became clear the floor was not going to cooperate.  "He puked on me."

Xander turned to the watcher who was studying his hands very intently.  Also the older man's oxygen deprived blueish hue was slowly turning bright red.  "I did apologize for that," he whispered.

Xander heard a solitary sob from Buffy.  "So that's what the yellow stuff in your hair is," he said before thinking better of it.

"And I can't even take a shower," the Slayer blubbered.  "I'd probably wash half of myself away."

Boffy the robot chose this moment to pipe up.  "Oh, don't worry, green me!" she said in her ever chipper tone.  She seemed to be the only one not adversely affected by Buffy's presence.  "I'll give you a hug."  And before Buffy could protest Boffy had her wrapped up in a bear hug.  Under the robots viselike grip several of Buffy's ribs gave way with loud, sickening cracks.  When she was finally released Buffy collapsed on the floor in an untidy heap.

Xander felt the urge to run to the Slayer's assistance like he had done innumerable times before, but he was also afraid that if he got any closer he would lose his lunch on his friend too.  And of the many things he had dreamed of doing to Buffy that surely had never been one.

But the Slayer looked up at him, her eyes pleading.  For the first time ever he could see helplessness in her as tears slowly made their way down her cheeks and part of her forehead fell off.  Xander couldn't bear to see the girl that had once been the strongest person he knew reduced to this.  He rushed over to her, carefully grabber her and vomited all over her.

***

"Oh, this is ludicrous," said Bill averting his eyes.

Next to him Lucy was still peering intently through Giles' window.  "Well, at least the boy meant well," she commented.

"You know what they say about good intentions," Bill sneered back.

Lucy continued watching unperturbed.  "Shush, I want see how he'll try to apologize for puking on her."

"Did I mention that this is all so very wrong?"

"Only about two million times," answered Lucy.  "Maybe you should have it tattooed on your forehead, kinda like a motto, so you could give your vocal chords a rest."  She shifted around in front of the window a little to try to get a better view of the things going on inside.  "Ooh, it looks like the boy had Mexican food for dinner," she added excitedly.  "I do wish you would shut up about that this-being-so-wrong business though."

"But this _is all very wrong," Bill whined insistently.  "This place is weirder than it usually is.  They've buggered the whole cosmic equilibrium to hell.  And now they've even resurrected the Slayer.  She's supposed to be dead, remember?  As in not sitting in this person's living room being vomited on."_

"I doubt that she's gonna do them much good," Lucy scoffed, "considering the state she's in.  If she even tried to walk too quickly her foot would fly off.  She'd be reduced to hardly more than a skeleton by a slight breeze."  She paused as she stared in the window.  "Oh, come on!" she exclaimed suddenly.  "Is she gonna let the boy get away with a lame excuse like that?"

"Excuse me," Bill cut in.  "But when you're done with your ersatz soap operas we have a problem to resolve."

"Oh, you're such a spoilsport," Lucy retorted.  "Besides, when daddy gets better he'll set everything straight again in no time.  Even your beloved cosmic equilibrium.  And then you'll regret not having used these moments to enjoy yourself."

"Your father has yet to show any sign of betterment.  Besides you agreed to help me with this mission."

"Hello?" Lucy exclaimed.  "A trip to Earth on company expenses!  Like I'd miss that!"

"Lucy, you're not being any help at all"

"But you love me anyway, don'tcha?" Lucy responded all smiles.

Bill smiled back at her.  "Yes, I do.  To my undying dismay, I do."

"Oh, you're such a sweet talker," Lucy laughed, kissed Bill lightly and returned to her peering in Giles' window.

***

The scene within Giles' apartment didn't get any more dignified once Willow and Tara showed up.  There was much the same scrunching up of the nose and waving away of the bad smell that had gone on so far.  There was also more throwing up, but let's leave unmentioned who did the actual tossing of the cookies and who said cookies were tossed onto.

In the end a motion was passed unanimously to hang all air fresheners they could get their hands on about Buffy's neck.  And just to be on the safe side they sprayed the entire contents of several cans of Lysol at her.  In the end the slayer smelled of many conflicting smells (pines, peaches, potpourri and other stuff that doesn't start with the letter "p") but at least it covered the fetid stench of decay some.  It may also be of interest to add that Buffy looked extremely silly with all the air fresheners around her neck, especially the green tree-shaped one they nicked out of the neighbor's car.

Lucy watched all this with rapt attention and many a sarcastic comment.  Bill, always by her side, passed the time by worrying about the cosmic equilibrium and sulking.  Needles to say that all the goings on at the moment were rather dull.  But there was something happening in a room not too far from Giles' apartment that was rather interesting.

***

It was a bedroom, and as bedrooms go this was an amazingly appalling one.  The decoration was scarce at best and all in terribly bad taste.  The bed was big, but looked rather uncomfortable.  It was supposed to imitate one of those soccer-pitch-sized, four-post, antique wood affairs in which no doubt in times long gone princes and princesses had their torrid extramarital affairs with the service folk.  Only the bed in this room was an imitation of the lowest possible quality.

The bed was made of plastic, and not just any sort of plastic, but pink plastic.  On it the role of the mattress was being inadequately played by a nondescript square of foam rubber.  It was bare since the bed seemed not to have been made and it didn't even have any pillows on it.  All in all this bed didn't promise long nights of unbridled passion, or even blissful sleep, but instead only outrageously expensive chiropractor's bills.

Next to the bed stood nightstand also made out of pink plastic and across the room from it was a large wardrobe (plastic, pink, as you may have guessed).  The wardrobe was spacious but empty, apparently only serving decorative purposes.  Next to the wardrobe was the bedroom door, which stood open, and one wall housed a large plastic window, one that had no glass panes in it.  Another thing that would have immediately caught your attention, had you been standing in this room, was the fact that one wall was missing entirely.

Now you may ask yourself who would want to live in such a place, especially amidst all this appalling plastic pinkness.  But the occupants of the bedroom had never much minded it.  For they too were made out of plastic.  They had led a good and uneventful life here so far.

But tonight was different.

"What did you just call me?"

"A good for nothing layabout," retorted Barbie, waggling an accusatory digit.  "You're a lousy bum," she added for good measure.

Ken was aghast at these allegations.  "A bum?  _Me?" he yelled.  "You haven't worked a day in your life!  What, pray tell, is it that _you_ do?"_

Barbie was a little caught off guard by the question and took a moment to think.  "Well," she stammered, "I look pretty!  That takes a ton of work.  And I change my clothes a lot and have my hair brushed."

Ken didn't bother saying anything.  He just raised an eyebrow.

"And, and, and…" Barbie went on as she tried to find more arguments in her favor, "I go driving all over the place in my car and I ride my horse.  I even won a trophy in an obstacle jumping competition."

Ken had to admit, though he only admitted it to himself, that she had a point there, even if her trophy had only been a plastic one.  She did do things every once in a while.  But the same strange power that provided things for her to do seemed to keep him sitting around the house endlessly.

"Well, I'd win trophies too," he began feebly, "if I had all the stuff you had."

"Yeah, about all this stuff," Barbie burst in, "I provide all this for you!"  She made expansive gestures all around her.  "And how do you thank me?"  She stopped for a moment or two for dramatic effect but then carried on before Ken could answer.  "Nothing!  You never even bring me flowers!  Those," she indicated a colorful bouquet that sat in a light blue vase on a small table, all of which was painted on the wall, "were here when we moved in.  We haven't even had sex in I don't know how long!"

"Sex?" exclaimed Ken, boggling at Barbie.  "Have you maybe forgotten that I lack some anatomical bits crucial to such an activity?  How do you think that makes _me feel?"_

"Oh, please, I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses!" Barbie seethed then paused for a moment.  Then she quietly said, "It's because I got fat isn't it?"

Indeed Barbie was one of the "new" model ones, designed to give the little girls that played with them a slightly less impossible ideal to live up to.  Nobody had ever considered Barbie's feelings in all this, and how she would deal with the change in her appearance after such a long time in her old body.

But Ken was unaware of any of this and to him Barbie just looked a little like part of her breasts had migrated to her thighs.  As these thoughts were slowly wandering through his mind he hesitated saying anything for just a little too long.

"Oh my god!" Barbie shrieked.  "It's true!  It's because I'm fat!  You liked my old body better, the one that the dog got.  He chewed off all my hair and half of my left arm, but you liked it better because it was thinner!  I can't believe you!"

"Wait a second," Ken said defensively.  "You said all of this stuff, not me.  You're just being insecure."

Ha!  Barbie insecure!  Would you ever have thought it possible?  Me neither!

"Insecure!" Barbie laughed without the smallest trace of humor in her voice.  "I provide all this for you," again she made with the expansive gesturing, "and you call me insecure!"

"Yeah, about all this stuff," this time it was Ken that said it (is it me or is this conversation getting repetitive?), "where the hell does it all come from?  Neither of us works, we don't make any money, so how can you afford a huge house, a Corvette, a horse and all those clothes?  Who buys all this for you?"

"What are you implying?" the blond doll fumed.

"Nothing," Ken backtracked (very wisely, I might add).

"You ungrateful bastard.  After all I did for you!"

"What have you done for me?  I never get to use any of your stuff.  I just get to sit around this bedroom all the time.  It's all Barbie's Dreamhouse and Barbie's Corvette and Barbie's bloody horsie and it's all freaking _pink_!  All I have is a spare pair of pants!"

"Well, you can take your spare pair of pants and get the hell out!" Barbie screamed.

"What?"

"Get out!" she repeated.

"But I…" Ken mumbled.

"Out!"

Barbie also suggested that Ken stick his spare pair of pants up a certain other part of his anatomy he did not possess.

***

The next morning the little girl who owned the dolls, let's call her Debbie, was very surprised to find Ken lying face down in front of Barbie's Dreamhouse, although she very distinctly remembered putting him in bed with Barbie the night before.  Next to him lay his spare pair of pants that Debbie's stupid aunt Fenella had given to her one Christmas.  Said present was what had made Debbie's aunt Fenella become Debbie's stupid aunt Fenella.

Debbie put Ken back in the house but when she came back from breakfast he was back lying out front, now sporting what could only be described as a black eye.  Barbie on the other hand seemed to have a fiercer more independent look about her.

Debbie was even more surprised to find a few days later that Ken and his spare pair of pants had moved into her brother's G.I. Joe camp.  Just as well, really, because she never played with Ken anyway.

***

Maybe what was going on inside Barbie's Dreamhouse wasn't so interesting after all.  And this was a part that did absolutely nothing to move the plot forward.  The author would at this point like to apologise for this last part.  All braincells responsible have been given a severe telling off and have promised to shape up for the future.  The next part will contribute something useful to this story.

***

The author would like to take this opportunity to apoligise in case that last bit sounded too much like the beginning of _Monty Python And The Holy Grail_.

***


	5. I Was A Teenage Evil Dead Extra

Disclaimer: "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" and all its characters are property of Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy and the UPN Network.  "Too Many Hippies" written by Ginger, published by Copyright Control.

Summary: Things have been going just a little too well lately so there must be something wrong.

Spoilers: Up to and including "The Gift".

Distribution: If you want it, here it is, come and get it.  But you better hurry 'cause it's going fast.  Oh yeah, and let me know.

Feedback: Yes, please.

Author's Note: The name "Boffy" belongs to whomever came up with it.  I believe it was somebody over at MightyBigTV.com.

***

PART V

I WAS A TEENAGE "EVIL DEAD" EXTRA

***

_In the garden of love there's a place you can relax  
Keeping misery and company from off of your backs  
But the Devil below, and the angels above  
Say there's something going on down the garden of love_  
_            -- "_Too Many Hippies", Silver Ginger 5__

_***_

The next morning things in Giles' apartment had improved only slightly.  Willow and Tara had left in order to be home when Dawn got up for school.  Thankfully they had also taken Boffy along with them.  A decision had been reached to not tell Dawn about Buffy's return until more information on the exact circumstances involved could be gathered.  Also, the effects of seeing her older sister as a walking half-decayed corpse on Dawn's young and impressionable mind would probably not have been altogether good ones.

And so the sun rose on another Sunnydale day that, just like the previous one, looked a little bit off.  The day was just that little bit too nice, too pleasant to be entirely believable.  The sky was of a color so deep and pure that it was giving blue crayons inferiority complexes and causing poets to throw in the towel by the hundreds.  "I can't describe this," the poets were heard muttering as they balled up their papers and snapped their pencils in two in a fit of poetic pique.  Not only was the sky of a color so unspeakable that I will not speak of it any further, it also had just enough clouds in it to make the weather seem interesting (which made many of the newly out-of-work poets take up meteorology).  The clouds were perfectly formed and of such exquisite fluffyness that sheep below went "Baah!" at them in utter envy.  The air was crisp and bore an ever so slight scent that, if it could have been bottled, would have netted the perfume industry untold billions.  And the grass and trees were of a resplendent green so healthy that it seemed to be giving passing cars the finger.

The birds, being the astute observers that they are, had obviously noticed that things were off and were singing songs about how this day was so unbelievably nice that humanity was no doubt screwed.  They were, of course, absolutely correct.  But humans failed to take any notice since they had put only very little effort so far into communicating with their feathered cohabitants.

And so Xander and Giles started the day not knowing of humanity's impending doom, although they did have an inkling that something out of the ordinary was going on since they were talking to the half-decayed corpse of a vampire slayer who, contrary to popular belief, seemed to be not very dead at all.  Even though they had not slept all night, they didn't feel tired.  Their noses on the other hand had decided to pack it in and go off line until there would be other things to smell besides decay.

In the meantime Buffy's mood had failed to lighten.  She was still confused and depressed by her sudden reemergence (no pun intended) into the land of the living.  That and her favorite finger had just fallen off.  It was the one that she usually used to point at vampires accusingly with, before making a clever remark and turning them to dust.  And to top it all off she was feeling terribly foolish with the large number of air fresheners hung around her neck.

The problem that they were all pondering was what force could have caused Buffy to be revived after being dead for nearly a year.  Resuscitation spells, where the person in question returns not as a zombie but as an actually functioning individual, were extremely tricky and dangerous affairs and could not be cast by just anybody with a magic wand, white rabbit, and a top hat.  In fact these spells explicitly forbade the use of magic wands, rabbits, top hats, capes and also scantily clad assistants in the rituals, which made them really unpopular in the magic community.  To cast a resurrection spell you not only needed a complete absence of wands and capes but also a vast assortment of complicated ingredients, some of which were rare, others extremely pricey and others still rumored to never have existed in the first place.

So to put it succinctly the slayer and her friends had nothing.  And so they each sat on the couch in silence.

"What do we know?" Xander finally asked just to break the silence.

"Besides the fact that I'm sitting here talking to you when I really should be six feet below the ground of the local cemetery?" Buffy replied.  "Not a whole lot."

"What about that spell Dawn used to try to bring back your mother?" Xander insisted.  "Could Spike have helped her to try it on you?"

"Possibly," Buffy started to shrug, but considering the rate she was losing body parts, decided it would be a bad idea.

"No, it couldn't have been that spell," Giles explained.  "The spell Dawn used revives the body only and Buffy would have returned as little more than a walking corpse.  They are more useless than a Celine Dion fan.  Buffy seems to be mentally intact, so that spell is out."

"I don't feel like a zombie," Buffy commented, "even though I realize I look like one.  I also don't have any kind of craving for human brains," she added with a shudder.

"Maybe," Xander said, "whatever it was that brought you back didn't come from this side but from wherever you were while you were…"  Xander could not bring himself to finish his sentence.

"Dead," Buffy mumbled, sounding colder than she head meant to.  "I was dead," she repeated, this time more softly.

"Well," Xander stammered, having picked up on Buffy's tone.  "Do you remember anything from…"  Again he hesitated.  "You know, over there?"

"No, not a single thing," Buffy answered.  "I know that I was, in fact, dead and gone but the last year is a complete blank for me.  My last memory before coming to in my coffin, which if you're looking for something that will give you nightmares for the rest of your life I can highly recommend, was jumping off Glory's tower."

"This doesn't mean that your soul wasn't actually somewhere during the time you were dead," Giles clarified, "and that whatever was on the other side brought you back."

"Well, I guess this means heavy duty research, right?" Xander inquired, wringing his hands in mock excitement in a desperate plea to lighten the mood a little.  "We really love some of that research, don't we?" he said in his best Ainsley Harriott voice.  "Which comes at just the right time because my boss told me I don't need to show up for work if I don't feel like it.  But I'll still get paid in full anyway."

"I thought your boss worked you guys like slaves," Giles said a little on the puzzled side.

"He does actually," Xander shrugged.  "But ever since yesterday he suddenly turned into this incredibly nice guy."  He thought about it for a moment and then shrugged again.  "Maybe it's because of the trauma," he added.  Xander noticed Giles and Buffy staring at him with befuddled looks.  "You know," he explained tentatively, "my trauma?"

"Trauma as in gaping head wound?" Buffy wondered.

"No," Xander answered.  "Trauma as in emotional."

"What trauma?" Buffy and Giles asked in chorus.

"Oh, yeah, with all the hubbub about Buffy coming back from the dead I forgot to mention that Anya and I broke up."

For a moment the room was silent.  Then Buffy and Giles erupted in a good round of "Oh, I'm sorry's" with the odd "That's so terrible" or "It must be so hard for you" thrown in for variety.

"Why does everybody think it must be so hard for me?" Xander whined.  "I'm fine, really."  And the truth was that Xander really did feel fine about the breakup.  And he felt fine about feeling fine about it.  What he wasn't entirely sure about is why he felt so fine about it and why he felt so fine about feeling fine about it.  Or something.  Until the day before he could have sworn that Anya was the person that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.  And there had only been one girl before that he had ever had such strong feelings for.  And that other girl had been dead.  Until yesterday.  Xander briefly wondered if the breakup and Buffy's return were connected, but he wasn't sure how to broach the subject with Buffy present.

"You are fine?" Giles inquired, derailing Xander's train of thought.

"Yes.  Absolutely," came the honest answer.

"You were with her for nearly three years," Giles insisted.  "You were engaged to marry her."

"You were what?" Buffy interjected.

"You did love her, didn't you?" Giles asked.

"Oh yes, very much so." Xander responded, again honestly.

"But you broke up yesterday and now you feel fine about it."

"Yes, we just felt we didn't want to be together anymore."

"From one day to the next?"

"Yes, from one day to the next!" Xander explained, nodding eagerly in the hope of discouraging any more inane questions from Giles.  "Look, it doesn't make complete sense to me either.  But I do feel fine, my heart is still in one piece."  Then something came up from the depths of Xander's memory and popped its head out of his murky sea of remembrance.  "Anya did mention that she though that Buffy would get better soon."

"Maybe that's significant," Buffy quickly said, because she felt she should be part of this conversation and she hadn't said anything relevant in a really long time.

***

*Ring*

"Hello?"

"Anya?"

"Oh hi, Xander!  How are you?"

"Fine, fine.  Listen, I have to tell you something."

"I hope it's good news."

"Yes, well…  Buffy's back."

"That's wonderful!  I'm so happy for you Xander.  Did you have sex?"

"What?  Well, you and me did the night before last but I don't know if this is really the time to be talking about it."

"No, not us.  You and Buffy, did you two have sex?"

"What?  No!"

"Why not?"

"Because she just dug herself out of her grave last night and I think the last thing on her mind would be to… Why am I even talking about this?"

"Why?  Don't you want to have sex with her?"

"No!  Well, yes maybe, but…"

"Oh, I think you do.  And I think you should go for it."

"Look, can we please talk about something else?"

"Okay.  I made lots of money."

"What?"

"Do you know you say that word an awful lot, Xander?  But, yes, I'm rich.  Quite obscenely so."

"How did that happen?  What did you do?"

"I'm not sure.  All I know is that I get paid a lot of money for doing it, whatever it is.  I love money."

"You must have done something to get all that money.  I don't know, win the lottery or rob a bank?"

"Neither one of those.  But you are talking to me in my brand new Lamborghini.  I was thinking of a Porsche or a Ferrari at first but Lamborghinis are so much more exclusive, don't you think?"

"…"

"And now I'm going shoe shopping."

"Yeah, anyway.  Listen, what I wanted to ask you: Yesterday at lunch you said something to the effect that Buffy maybe would have gotten better."

"Yes.  And she did!  Isn't that just great?"

"Yes, quite.  Anyway, how did you know that?"

"That Buffy would get better?  I didn't know it.  I just hoped it would happen for you, because you two make such a terrific couple."

"But you had no idea it would actually happen?"

"None."

"Do you know what could have made her come back?"

"Her love for you?"

"No, I mean realistically."

"No.  No idea."

"Hmmm."

"I'm sorry I can't help you with that, Xander.  But I think you're overanalyzing all this.  Buffy is back, just be happy about it.  And tell her I said you two should have sex."

"Right.  Well, thanks anyway.  I'll talk to you later then."

"Bye, Xander.  Okay, now let's see how fast this baby can go.  Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"

***

Xander reemerged into the living room feeling more confused than he had been before the call to Anya.  He couldn't quite put his finger on why, but he felt like something strange was going on.  And since strangeness was something that he and his friends dealt with fairly often he thought he had developed something like a sixth sense for it.  And things most certainly felt strange to him right now.

It had all begun with that ridiculously large breakfast that Anya had served up to him just twenty-four hours earlier.  Anya had always made a point of avoiding the kitchen, finding it a place that was not lucrative enough for her tastes.  It had usually been Xander who had prepared the meals for them.  And the few times that Anya did try her hand at the culinary arts it could have been considered a success if there had been no need to get the fire department involved.  Still the day before she had suddenly metamorphosed into Betty Crocker on crack.  And not only had she whipped up all those mountains of food in an improbably short time span but the food had also been very good.

And after him and Anya had broken up over lunch in an altogether too diplomatic manner for it being so sudden, Xander's boss had turned into Mother Theresa and given him all the time off that he wanted.  Xander's boss had never been much the sentimental type and the only circumstances he seemed to be willing to give a worker time off was if that worker subsequently never returned.  Now all of a sudden he had become the humanitarian poster boy and taken Xander and his colleagues out drinking.

That brought up another question: Considering how drunk Xander had been the night before, shouldn't he be just a tiny bit hung over by now?  In all the commotion, he hadn't gotten around to drinking any water and he hadn't slept in over a day, nonetheless he felt fine, no tiredness and no hangover.

But all this oddity paled in comparison to the utter inexplicability of the fact that Buffy was sitting on a sofa just a few feet away from him. Okay, so she wasn't in the best of shapes and she kept deteriorating as more pieces of her fell off, but she had definitely ceased being dead.  Xander wondered what it must feel like for Buffy to be alive again, yet trapped in a body so fragile and offensive that going back to living a normal life was impossible. Not that she had had much of a normal life anyway, but she couldn't even regain the little bits of normalcy she had been able to hold on to before.

Xander tried to look at the big picture, the grand scheme of things.  Anya and him had just broken up in a very pleasant way.  That in itself was not good, but if they had to break up it was better that it happened the way it did instead of a long, bitter, drawn out, I-hate-your-guts-and-want-to-hurt-you type of divorce later in their lives.  Buffy was alive again.  That was good.  Okay, so she was a little decayed around the edges.  And those were the good bits, because the rest of her was very decayed.  But alive was an improvement nonetheless, right?  Then Anya had made a lot of money.  Since Anya really loved money that was good.  The day that Xander could see through the window was excessively beautiful, which was always positive.  No hangover.  Good.  No sleep, but not tired.  Also good.

All this strange goodness could mean only one thing: Something was very wrong.

Xander suddenly became very aware that both Giles and Buffy were staring at him expectantly.  Xander wondered how he was going to relate the bizarre conversation he had just had with his ex-fiancée to them.

"Well?" They prodded, when he didn't seem to be about to offer any information spontaneously.

"My ex-girlfriend is weird," he finally said tentatively.  "Any of you ever notice that?" he added with a frown.

Nothing was said in response but there was a lot of insincere head shaking from Giles, and some very careful (yet no less insincere) head shaking from Buffy.

"But did Anya say anything that could be of any use to us?" Giles inquired finally.

"No, the only thing she kept suggesting is that Buffy and I…" Xander trailed off.  "Er, never mind," he stammered lamely.

A moment of awkward silence settled on the room.

"Huh!" Xander huffed as if trying to clear his head.  "Anyway, she seems to have no idea as to what's going on."

"Well, I guess we're on our own then," Giles said, getting up off the couch.  "We have a lot of research to do.  We can't go over to the magic shop because of…"  He stopped and wondered what the most diplomatic way of explaining that the sight and smell of Buffy would be deeply offensive to his customers could be.  He finally settled on: "Because I said so."  He was aware of it being a cop out, but they had bigger fish to fry.  "So we'll do our research here.  I already told Tara and Willow to mind the shop," he continued, "so I'm just going to pop over there and grab some books that should be useful to us.  Xander, you stay here and take care of Buffy."

"Wait a second," Buffy protested, "I do not need to be taken care of."  Another one of her fingers dropped off her hand.  "Okay, never mind," she conceded.  "Xander, please take care of me."

"Will do, madam," Xander assured, performing what he hoped would be a graceful bow but ended up looking more like he'd been kicked in the stomach.

They watched Giles as he strode around the room, picked up his coat and car keys and finally made his way to the door.  "Oh, one more thing," he said before leaving, "please don't open the windows.  The smell would be sure to attract a lot of unwanted attention."  And on that placid note he was off.

***

Xander sat down on one of the empty couches.  Not too close to Buffy of course, he could still see the remnants of his last meal, which had by now congealed in her hair.  They sat for a while in awkward silence, neither one really knowing how to begin a conversation.

_How do you start talking to a friend who suddenly came back from the dead?_ Xander asked himself, but was not able to provide a satisfying answer.

Buffy on the other hand was worried about the fact that everybody's lives had gone on in the past ten months. They had made decisions that would shape their future, and she had completely missed out on all of those.  For her, time had just stood still.  On the inside she felt exactly the same person as the one who had jumped off Glory's tower to save her little sister.  But the world around her had changed and she was scared that her friends would have found a way to live without her, and now they would not have any room in their lives to allow her back in the same way they had before.

And so they sat for a while longer in silence.

"So," they said finally, in unison, and then laughed.  That seemed to break the ice a little.

"So you got engaged?" Buffy asked finally.

"Yes," Xander nodded.  "I, Xander Harris, king of the underachievers, was actually on my way to getting married.  Sounds pretty strange, doesn't it?"

"No, not really," Buffy countered.  "I think you and Anya made a good couple."  She paused for a moment.  "Well, at least you made _a_ couple.  And of all of us it seems like you have your life together the most.  You have steady job, a nice apartment, so marriage did seem like a good choice for a next step.  I'm sorry to have to burst your bubble, Xander, but you're not an underachiever anymore. Your membership to that club had been revoked a while ago."

"Well, it's all academic now anyway," Xander shrugged.  "I'm not engaged anymore."

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?" Buffy inquired.

"Not at all," Xander responded and then froze, not knowing how to continue.  It had all come so suddenly, yet there was no pain, no sadness.  There was just a strange sense of having done the right thing, of having played his part in the grand scheme of things.  "I couldn't tell you what happened if I wanted to.  Yesterday morning Anya and I seemed to be doing just fine, and then at lunch it felt like we couldn't get away from each other fast enough.  But not in a negative way, we didn't fight at all about it.  We just decided to break up."

"That's fairly odd," Buffy said frowning.  "I wonder what's going on."

"I think I may be able to shed some light on that," a voice said from the door.

Both Buffy and Xander jumped out of their seats, alarmed by the sudden intrusion of an outsider.  In the doorway stood two figures, silhouetted by the bright sun that shone outside.  The figures moved inside the apartment and shut the door behind them, turning from two-dimensional outlines into two people, a man and a woman.

The man was tall and slim, with longish black hair and piercing blue eyes.  He wore a dark blue shirt that was not tucked into his black jeans, a leather jacket and combat boots.  The woman was a good deal shorter, with curves in all the right places and dyed dark red hair that reached to her shoulders.  She was clad in a knee-length black and white stripey skirt, a black top, and high-heeled sandals.

"Who are you?" asked Buffy in full defiant mode, even though she knew perfectly well that the state her body was in prevented her from doing any kind of actual defying.  But she figured that these two people were actually way too stylish to get into a physical fight.  They looked more like the kind of people who prefer the use of magic or hordes of minions.

"My name is William Zaphod Bubb," said the man and then pointed to the woman beside him, "and this is Lucinda Sebrina Fehr."

"No relation to the actor," the woman added.

"To whom?" Xander and Buffy asked in a puzzled, yet grammatically correct, manner.

"Exactly," the woman smiled.  "But please call us Bill and Lucy."

Xander and Buffy looked at each other for a moment, seemingly trying to decide what to make of the intruders.  They had not liked the way that the two had just burst in without invitation (at least that and the sun shining outside ascertained that they weren't vampires), but they did not seem to be in any way aggressive or dangerous.  Which in itself made red flags jump up all over the place.  Also they seemed not to be appalled or shocked by Buffy's half-decayedness, which made the red flags that had just sprung up wave frantically.  But by now even if the red guy with the horns, the pointy tail, the cloven hooves and the big bottom had shown up and said he could shed some light on what was going on Xander and Buffy probably would have heard him out.

"What do you want?" Xander asked, after a pause.

"We came to help," Lucy said.  "In case you haven't noticed, things right now are not the way they should be and it is of utmost importance to the human race that this situation be rectified."

"What do you mean by things not being the way they should be?" Buffy inquired.

"Do I actually need to point out that you're standing in front of me asking that question?"

"No, I guess not," Buffy whispered, suddenly embarrassed.  "Point taken."

"And you know what it is that is being not right?" Xander asked.

"Yes, indeed we do."

"And you are here to help us set things straight?" Buffy added.

"Again, yes," Lucy answered.

Buffy looked over at Xander who just looked back at her and shrugged his shoulders.

"Works for me," Buffy finally said.  "Why don't you have a seat and tell us what's going on."

"Oh, well," Bill said sheepishly, "I think we'd rather stand.  Right here by the window.  It's such a lovely day outside isn't it."  Lucy stood next to him nodding with an insincere grin on her face.

"You don't want to come over here because I smell like the half decayed corpse that I am, right?" Buffy deduced.

Lucy considered being brave and sitting on one of the couches, while Bill was more inclined to outright lying in order to justify staying as far away from Buffy as possible.  But by the look Buffy was giving them Bill and Lucy could see that she had them figured out.  So they just put on embarrassed grins and stayed put.

Just then Giles burst through the door muttering something about having forgotten his wallet and not wanting to be caught driving without his license.  Apparently the police looked down on such behavior.  He froze when he noticed the strangers standing by his front window.  He said nothing, and just gave Buffy and Xander a questioning look.

"Oh, Giles," Xander jumped into action.  "These are Bill Bubb and Lucy Fehr.  They say they can shed some light on what's going on."

Bill and Lucy held out their hands for a shake but Giles just took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling for a moment.

"Xander, Buffy," he finally said, "what did I tell you to do when somebody from hell comes knocking on my door?"

Xander and Buffy looked at each other in confusion.  Finally Buffy answered helpfully: "Um, not let him in?"

"Right, yes," Giles nodded and then just raised his eyebrows and asked, "Well?"

For the umpteenth time that day Xander felt himself drowning in confusion, but then he slowly pieced everything together.  "Bill… Z… Lucy… F…  Oh, boy."  He slumped back onto the couch.  "I knew this was all going a little too well," he mumbled.

"See?" Bill whispered to Lucy, "I told you we shouldn't have used our real names!"

***


	6. Explaining The Explanation Part I

Disclaimer: "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" and all its characters are property of Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox, Mutant Enemy and the UPN Network.

Summary: Things have been going just a little too well lately so there must be something wrong.

Spoilers: Up to and including "The Gift".

Distribution: If you want it, here it is, come and get it.  But you better hurry 'cause it's going fast.  Oh yeah, and let me know.

Feedback: I encourage it greatly if you want me to continue.  (Blackmail?  Me?  Never!)

***

PART VI

EXPLAINING THE EXPLANATION PART I

***

"Are we in trouble now?" Buffy asked sheepishly, knowing that in the badly deteriorating shape she was in there was little she could do to ward off any danger.

"Actually…-" Lucy began, but she was immediately cut off by Giles.

"Let's see," the watcher said.  "We have the very devil himself right here, _inside_ my apartment and all we have to put up as opposition is a middle-aged magic shop owner, a construction worker and a slayer so brittle that standing too close to an air-conditioning vent could be fatal to her.  We couldn't even start a Village People cover band like this, much less do any real fighting."  He paused for a moment in the aftermath of this somewhat uncharacteristic rant, and then drew his conclusion.  "Yes, I think this qualifies as trouble."

"Just a…-"  It was Bill this time.  But he quickly learned that it is very hard to get a word in when your interlocutors are bordering on mass hysteria.

"Oh, man," Xander whined.  "And my day was going so well.  No hangover.  No work."

"Speak for yourself," Buffy retorted.

"And now the world is going to end.  And the most exotic place I've ever seen is Oxnard!  I've never even been to the Bahamas where bikini-clad beauties would feed me Margaritas."

"Could we…-"  Bill wasn't for giving up easily, but he was still not able to capture people's attention.

"Bikini-clad beauties don't feed you Margaritas in the Bahamas," Giles was too busy explaining to pay any heed to the one named Bill Z. Bubb.  "It's all just an illusion they keep up for advertising purposes.  I know that for a fact, I've been there.  They also don't feed you Mai Tais or Milkshakes or Martinis or other types of drinks that don't start with the letter 'm'."

"I never much cared for Martinis or Milkshakes," Buffy commented.  "But I'm quite fond of Manhattans and Mind Erasers."

"I like sex on the beach myself," Xander threw in.

"Not me," Giles mused.  "I can't drink Vodka anymore.  Had too much of it in my youth."

"I wasn't talking about drinks," Xander clarified, "but have it your way."

Bill and Lucy had momentarily set aside trying to speak and had taken up doing some open-mouthed gaping.  They felt it better illustrated their utter disbelief at the conversation that they were witnessing.  They were certain that, if at some day in the future they were going to tell their grandkids about this, the younger ones would start crying and call for their mommies and the older ones would walk off shaking their heads and commenting on how grandma and grandpa had gone all weird.

And so Lucy Fehr decided it was time to take action.  "_HELLO!_" she shouted in a voice so loud it would have made a heavy metal vocalist (or Robin Leach) turn green with envy.

This finally got the attention of the three humans.  They stopped arguing about which drinks starting with the letter 'm' bikini-clad beauties in the Bahamas would or would not feed you (and sex on the beach) and turned to look at Lucy.

Lucy turned back her volume to normal speaking levels and asked: "Is this a bad time?  Should we maybe come back later?"

"Would you?" Giles ventured.

"No," said Lucy.  "I just thought it would get your attention."

"Can we please explain why we're here now?" Bill pleaded.

"What?  You are going to give away your unbelievably diabolical plan to take over the world to us before you kill us?" Xnader inquired.  "That is very James Bond of you."

"We don't have an unbelievably diabolical plan to take over the world," Bill explained.

"So you come here to fight us and you don't even have an unbelievably diabolical plan to take over the world?" Buffy wondered.  "That's pretty shoddy plotting considering you are the very devil himself."  She paused for a moment.  "Or herself?  Which one of you is the devil anyway?"

"Well, we're kind of a team," Bill explained.

"We're married," Lucy added.

"How quaint," Giles commented.

"And we're not here to fight you, we're here to help you.  Not that corpse girl over there could really put up much of a fight."

Giles, Buffy and Xander looked at each other in a very confused manner.  Then they looked at Bill and Lucy, also in a very confused manner.  Then they looked back at each other in a manner no less confused than the last time they were looking at each other.  Or something.

"Let me explain," said Lucy.

"Please do," the three confused ones replied.

"Me and Bill are what you people refer to as 'The Devil'," Lucy Fehr began.  "We run what you know as 'Hell'."

"So far you're not telling us anything earth-shatteringly new," Buffy commented.

"Please shut up," Lucy scolded her, and shut up Buffy did.  "Our job, in the grand scheme of things, amounts to that of running a prison.  Souls of people who have been evil are sent to us to receive their just punishment.  We ourselves are not evil, that was all just a misunderstanding that can be ascribed to some bloody awful PR.  We actually have some very strict guidelines that forbid us to get directly involved in human affairs."

The undead vampire slayer and her two helpers nodded dumbly at the information they were receiving, still not understanding where any of this was going.

"Which leads me to explaining why exactly Bill and I are here: we decided to get directly involved in human affairs."

"Aha!" Buffy announced.  There followed a brief silence during which all persons assembled looked at the slayer expectantly.

"What?" Bill finally asked.

"Nothing," Buffy replied sheepishly.  "I just thought it would be a good moment to say it."

"Now I lost my train of thought," Lucy complained.  "Where was I again?"

"You decided to get directly involved in human affairs," Giles suggested helpfully.  "Which, by the way, you just explained to us you are forbidden to do."

"Yes, thank you."  Lucy paused for a moment or two to sort out in her head how she was going to explain the present situation.  After realizing she was unable to she decided to just go for broke and see what happened.  "I'll start at the beginning."

"That's usually a good place to start," Xander commented.

"Indeed," Giles agreed.  "I always try to start at the beginning myself."

"What did I say about interrupting me?" Lucy fumed as she was slowly turning the same hue of red as her hair.

"Ooh, I know," exclaimed Buffy quickly raising her hand, which made another one of her fingers fly off.  "We're not supposed to do it," she announced with a satisfied grin.  "And you are turning so red that your head is starting to look like radicchio so I'm just gonna shut up now."

"Thank you," Lucy replied through clenched teeth, trying to calm herself down.

"Radicchio?" Xander whispered to Buffy.

"The salad section at the store is on the way to the Mac'n Cheese," the slayer whispered back.

"Can I continue now?" Lucy asked.

The three humans thought better than to open their mouths and just nodded dumbly.

"It all started when dad turned himself into a duck," Lucy explained.  "Then accounting took over and buggered this place to hell."  _Maybe explaining things wouldn't be so hard after all_, Lucy thought with a satisfied smirk.

Xander, Buffy and Giles decided that it was now their turn to attempt some open-mouthed gaping.  They thought it to be very appropriate at this point in the conversation.

Seeing their reaction Lucy quickly lost her self-confidence.  "What?" she asked.  "Was any of this unclear?"

"Made perfect sense to me," Bill interjected helpfully.

"Which part did you not understand?"

"Well," Xander answered, "That part in the beginning with the duck."

"And that thing about accounting in the middle," Buffy continued.

"And also the bit about the buggering in the end," Giles concluded.

This provoked a rather exasperated look from Lucy and she turned to Bill who just shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Look, this is giving my half-decayed brain a half-decayed headache," Buffy broke in.  "Can't we just fight instead and call it a day?"

"What is it with you and fighting, for dad's sake?" Lucy asked further adding to her exasperation.

"Well," Buffy replied sheepishly, "It's kinda what I do.  And I'd rather fight in the state that I am in than try and make sense of what you just said."

"For the last time," Bill explained slowly, "We are not here to fight you.  We will not engage in any kind of physical combat with you, not now, not tomorrow, not ever."  Before thinking better of it he added, "What do you think we are?  Evil?!"

"Well… yes," Giles replied.  "We kind of expected you to be evil."

"And red," Xander said.  "We expected you to be evil and red.  With horns and a tail."

"And naked," Buffy added.

Bill just shook his head.  "You kids watch too many cartoons.  Thing is, we're not.  Evil that it is.  Or naked.  Well, not always at least.  We're not now," he pointed out gesturing at his and Lucy's clothing.  "And you're wrong about the redness and the horniness as well."  Lucy's head snapped around to Bill and he frowned.  "That didn't come out right!  We're not the kind of horny you were referring to.  We're actually quite a lot of the other kind of horny."  Lucy hit him on the arm.  "I probably didn't need to mention that."

"Well, I don't blame you with a wife like that," Xander replied without thinking, rather taken with Lucy's good looks.  This comment earned him a stern look from Buffy, which he did his best to ignore as it burned twin holes in the side of his head.

"Could we please get back to the main plot and explain why you are here?" Giles wondered.

"Honey, would you care to give it a shot?" Lucy asked of her husband.

"Not really," Bill said giving his head a good shaking, "You're better at explaining stuff."

"We're boned," Buffy mumbled to Xander.

"Maybe we should try using diagrams," Lucy mused aloud.

"Yup, we're boned," Xander whispered back.

"Or puppets," Bill said excitedly.  "I've always been rather fond of puppets!"

"We are _so_ boned," Giles muttered.

When Lucy had finally convinced Bill that he was not going to use any puppets for his explanation, he cleared his throat and gave the whole explaining thing a go: "Well, there's the duck and Lucy's dad, who is also the duck, and accounting who took it over, not the duck but Lucy's dad, or at least his job, and their really buggering it, not the duck or Lucy's dad, which are the same, but his job."  He paused for a beat.  "Any questions?"

Three hands shot up in the air and a fourth rapidly decomposing one was raised rather carefully.

Bill looked at his wife who was standing next to him with her hand in the air.  "Lucy, do you have a question?" he asked.

"No, I just really need the bathroom," she answered.

Everybody turned to Giles, who didn't notice, as he was still trying to piece together what Bill had said and at the same time worrying that his skull might explode.  Even under considerable load his brain was still capable of multitasking.  It was quite a remarkable feat indeed.  Don't try it at home, kids.  Or anywhere else for that matter.  Finally the ex-watcher looked up and noticed everybody staring at him (Wait, was there a pun in there somewhere?).  "What?" he asked morosely.

"The bathroom?" urged Lucy, who had taken to hopping from one foot to the other.

"Oh, right this way," he gestured and he escorted one half of the duo that made up the devil down his hallway.


End file.
